


Never Ending

by Malind



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: So many things have changed, but some things never will.  Takes place during the Thor & Loki scene at the end of Thor: Ragnarok.





	Never Ending

A hug... The offer spills from my lips without reservation. Half because I think Loki might not be there. Half because he is my brother.

Things both of us are reluctant to admit, at least with words, he also claims the names of trickster, betrayer. And he does not share my family's blood. Still, he is forever my brother and our father's son. His place in my heart is a fortress, resolute even through life's foulness. Admittedly, at times, I might come to hate him but that hate never lasts, probably because it is never true hate in the first place.

In the end, whether he stands before me or has sent deceit to trick me yet again, I would never take back the offer of my affection, no matter how I play my words off with a grin. I never expect him to accept my touch. In fact, when we do touch, those moments are stolen by me and my fervent emotions. Damn my need for touch.

With such thoughts beating my head, after proving he is indeed there with my aim, I smile broader, matching his smirk, and then turn my gaze to the window.

My thoughts sober as the previous days press against my mind. "With this calm, let us give ourselves time to mourn our father."

"In each other's arms, I suppose?"

My gaze jerks back to stare at Loki. He no longer smiles or perhaps merely offers the barest hint of one. In its place is a crooked eyebrow. And when had he stepped closer to me?

Alarm creeps up over me, bringing tension to my muscles, my soul. Persistent betrayal, from someone a person loves, tends to do that.

To know the thoughts that traipse though his mind at this moment as he watches me, my reactions, with careful calculation...

I want to know his thoughts as much as I fear them.

Loki's smirk returns, and I prepare myself for the worst. He cannot harm me, at least not physically. My heart on the other hand, that he has destroyed, repeatedly, and it would be so easy to do so again at this moment.

His head tilts a bit. The motion does things to me I shall never admit to. At least not this day. Years past, in our youth, there had been a time I had succumbed to such feelings. But that had been so many years ago, a blip on the distant horizon behind us. The years that followed made my strength of will robust. At least I like to tell myself so.

Now, I steel myself, again, for what is about to come. I force myself to forget that past moment of decadence, again, mostly because Loki had told me to do just that, abruptly after our teeth-grinding kiss and groping's had ceased and his climax had been reached.

...But whose soul had he been trying to save when he had demanded my silence that day? His own? Mine? Our father's? Our people's?

Worse, why think of such a thing now, so soon after our father's death? I shake my head slightly at the thought, at my harshened breaths. Thank all good things in existence our father had never known what happened in that hallway after breakfast that early morning.

And when had this room become so unbearably hot?

I bitterly swallow down my love, my lust for this man taking another step towards me. I try to shove away his suggestion that we comfort each other with our embrace but fail. To save myself, I say much more strongly than should have been possible, "Brother, save your jests for another day. Now is not the time."

"When will it be time?" His gaze fails to waver, to let me off the hook for my indecent thoughts. "I doubt that day will ever come."

"You speak as if I judge you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Proper judgement severely lacks when it comes to you, dear brother. It always has."

With our home destroyed by our own will, with our father and sister gone from this life, with so much wrongness between us, I admit those things while knowing how wrong it is to do so. But, obviously, it is impossible for me to feel differently. But could anyone truly blame me for not judging, at least at this moment, considering how lost we now are in the universe? Considering how much I need him.

"Not always," Loki says right back.

I nod my submission and look away again. Yes, those two words are true. But their truth feels unreal, unnatural.

"And not now," he adds with finality.

I close my eyes in an irrational effort to block him out. I feel weak, vulnerable, ripe for him to devour. If time past holds any sway, he seeks to exploit me.

But please, not this day. I have no strength to fight him.

My head shakes, just barely, as I grit my teeth. "Why this constant craving to torment me, Loki, when I have done nothing but love you?"

His hand touches my chest. In my avoidance of him, in his familiarity, the touch shocks me for I had not realized he had come upon me. The hand lingers, and I grip it before it can bring an unwelcome warmth to me. Harshly, making him suck in a breath.

After a second that feels like eternity as the flesh of our hands touch, Loki whispers to me, his voice almost husky, although I cannot tell if it is because of pain or merely surprise or perhaps something that could never be: "Our watchers are gone."

Heat flaring, I open my eyes to stare at him. My hand loosens, and I press his hand again to my chest. For once, I know exactly what he speaks of. Our lives had never been our own. Even now, our lives belong to our people, to the fallen. They judge us, expect us to be just, righteous, godly. But when have we ever truly been those things? "They watch us still."

"Yes." His gaze lowers to our hands. I believe it is the first time his eyes have shifted from my face since entering the room.

Our distance is still a step away. The temptation to close it... I give in because I want it. And I believe he does too, even if he never says so.

Perhaps, in gripping him so tightly against me, my faults again reveal themselves as bright as a raging fire in the night. But I find it so hard to care, especially when his hands tentatively touch the small of my back. I bury my face in his neck, overcome in ways he never seems to be.

Does he feel the things I do? Can he? Can he feel beyond hate and rage and indifference? Surely, he does. He must.

But even if he cannot, at this moment, he allows my touch and it is enough.

Or not, as I press my lips to his smooth neck, the familiar heady scent of him so strong I cannot help but taste him to see if he tastes as I remember as well. If he pushes me away now, I have no choice but to accept it. That acceptance of his rejections has been between us since what feels like eternity.

But perhaps now, with so much indeed changed, his love for me will reveal itself.

His body shudders. I hold him closer to stave off my own.

If he has any idea how much I want him... In every possible way.

His arms tighten before they slacken, and he steps away, his cheeks flushed. Surely mine are no better. I let him go, however torturous it is to do so.

He smiles then, although it seems forced. "I came to tell you your people desire your presence in our new great hall."

"Our people," I correct him.

He huffs. "Yes, our people." He gestures towards the doorway with one hand and a small, sarcastic bowing of his head. As if nothing has just happened between us.

This thing between us...

And I know there must be something more than just my own desires... There must be. Or else how could I feel this way?

Well, my greatest desire is for there to be something more, at least.

Perhaps one day this need for avoidance and distance will drain from him. For me, one taste of him and I only want him more. As if wanting him could ever really go away, no matter what false hate and fleeting rage may crest within me.

Loki is my brother. And I love him. Perhaps, one day, that love will be welcomed and returned in every way possible. I pray for that day to come.


End file.
